Brotherhood: Bound By Pain
by ericwinter
Summary: When the Dursley's took their nephew in, they expected freakishness, and were dead set on stamping it out from the beginning. When their own son, however, proves to share the same curse as his cousin, Things quickly go from bad to worse. Sharing the hatred and disgust heaped upon them by Vernon and Petunia's apathy, Harry and Dudley fight to survive, forging a brotherhood of pain.


**Welcome, one and all, to Brotherhood: Bound By Pain! Now, I know most of you are wonder 'ericwinter, what are you doing putting up** _ **another**_ **Harry Potter story, and when you're so behind on you other stories?' Well, admittedly, yes, I** _ **am**_ **way behind on my other stories, and as I am starting a new job which will be taking a good deal of my time, I will probably be getting even further behind, for at least a little bit. However, this story idea has been nagging at me for quite a while, and I finally decided to give it a go. I apologize to everyone who has been desperately waiting for my other stories, but I shall do my best to get those up as well. Who knows, maybe with a specific work schedule I might be able to regularize my updates anyways. Here's to hoping, at least!**

 **Anyways, so I wanted to spend a little bit explaining the basis of this story, and why it has been so prominent in my mind. Basically, I've seen Dudley redemption stories. I mean, they're sort of common in fanfiction, although not by much. I've even seen stories where the Dursley's accept Harry and raise him in a warm and loving home. But I have never,** _ **ever,**_ **seen a story where Dudley is a wizard. I mean really, you would think it would be a major trope or something, considering the massive irony of such a situation, but nope. There is pretty much** _ **zero**_ **stories where Dudley is a muggleborn wizard, which, honestly, is kind of sad. So here it is, my interpretation of what might happen if the Dursley's discovered Dudley possessed the same 'freakishness' of his cousin, and how that might affect the relationship between him and Harry, as well as their joint adventures in Hogwarts.**

 **So, now that I've got that off my chest, I shall leave you all to Read, Relax, and Enjoy. Don't forget to review, and I shall see you all later!**

XXX

It started at age four.

Dudley was crying over a toy truck, broken from his rough playing, and Vernon was too far into his cups to be bothered doing something about it while Petunia was in the kitchen. Ignored, the little, pudgy boy's cries grew louder and louder, until they were silenced by a sudden crack, and the tinkling of glass striking the floor. Petunia, who had just walked into the sitting room where her husband and son were located, froze, staring with wide, panicked eyes at the remains of the small table lamp which had shattered. Then, with a narrowing of her eyes, she glanced around the room for a tell-tale glimpse of dark hair, as this could only be the work of the lone resident of Number Four Privet Drive with such a trait. a few seconds later, however, with her son staring at her wide-eyed and her husband drowsing drunkenly, the woman let out a small gasp. Harry Potter, her freakish nephew, was nowhere to be found, because he was with Mrs. Figg for the day.

Petunia didn't speak of that day again, and the next morning there was no evidence to be found that anything out of the ordinary had occurred, with the shattered bulb being cleaned up and replaced. In fact, she pretended it had never happened at all, until nearly a month later, when again Harry was at Figg's house, and Dudley threw a temper tantrum when his Father wouldn't give him the remote to the TV. The extraordinarily thin woman had just entered their sitting room in time to see the remote, along with several other items in the room, suddenly float into the air weightlessly, leaving both mother and father gaping at their child in surprise, and not a little bit of fear.

From there, it was a downhill slide, one which was painfully slow. More and more, Vernon delved into his cups after the revelation that his son shared the same freakishness which had already become evident in their nephew. Slowly but surely, he grew angry and bitter, and within just a few months, everyone in the house had sensed his change. Even Harry, not yet privy to the discovery of Dudley's budding powers, could tell that something was changing, and it was going to be big.

The first time Vernon shoved Dudley into the cupboard while consumed by a drunken rage, Harry was in the kitchen, washing dishes and staying out of the way. Only after the large man had returned to the sitting room and fallen asleep on the couch did Harry hear the quiet banging of small fists on the door. Curious, the boy slipped down the hall carefully, drawing closer to the cupboard which was his home. When he saw who it was that had invaded his personal sanctum, the child gasped and threw open the door to stare agape at his cousin, curled up on the floor and struggling to wipe away the tears which had become more and more real since the sudden change in his treatment.

"Dudley?" Harry asked in the small, confused voice only a child could create, bewildered at the sight before him. He had noticed by now that Dudley had stopped receiving such special treatment that the boy was usually given, but never before had Vernon ever even _threatened_ anyone else with the cupboard. It was a place meant only for freaks and worthless people, like Harry himself. But when the two children stared into each other's eyes that day, there was a sudden understanding, the type only extraordinarily young people were able to understand, or even create. Whatever had happened, whatever had changed, Dudley was now in the same position as Harry, and that meant they were in this together. So, with a small, childish nod, Harry stepped into the cupboard and closed the door behind him, sitting down beside his cousin without another word and reaching out an arm to wrap around the distraught boy in an awkward hug.

They were six by the time Vernon lost enough humanity to start starving Dudley as he did Harry, depriving him of more and more food at each meal, but by then, the two boys had developed an alliance that would not be shaken with such petty measures. At Harry's suggestion, they started to ration their food, sharing equally what they could, and deciding with fair, honest games what they could not. Their mutual protection and sacrifice for each other extended to school as well, when Vernon used whatever influence he had in the community to turn the other children their age against them. It wasn't long until they had worked out a system; Dudley, with his considerable girth, was the obvious target, taking what punishment came, whether from words or blows. The misfortunes of the last two years had forced him to grow a thick skin, especially after his Father started to throw the same insults at him as were sent towards his cousin, and while it turned him into a quiet, introspective child, he used it to his advantage. Meanwhile, Harry had taken on the role of planner and coordinator, finding a vast multitude of ways to thwart both school bullies and their uncle and father. With each hardship, with each day, week, and month that the two boys suffered, they were drawn closer together, their shared pain and troubles forging a bond of brotherhood strong enough to last all the trials life could throw at them.

They were eight when Harry and Dudley learned the truth of why Vernon hated them, and why their lives had become a living hell. It came from Petunia, who for four years had watched helplessly from the side, too scared to stop her husband as he descended ever deeper into madness and cruelty, as well as too ashamed to admit that she had been just as bad, treating Harry like dirt until it became obvious that her own son shared in his magic. She had been terrified at first; It was a cruel joke, that both her sister and son would have the gift, or curse as she had once tried to convince herself it was, while she had not been chosen to bear it. But then, after years of watching both the boys suffer, her own son's plight opening her eyes to that of her nephew, she finally broke.

It wasn't anything special that tipped the scale, leaving her kneeling in front of both children with tears streaming down her face as she apologised profusely. She had been cleaning, or at least what little bit Vernon required of her to keep the image of 'normalcy' up, and her hand had brushed the latch to the cupboard, swinging its door open with a creak of the hinges. Inside, the two boys sat in the cramped space, playing a game of Go Fish. Despite the normalness of the situation, discounting their surroundings at the time, it caught Petunia's attention that both boys winced slightly every time they moved, and Dudley even had a white bandage sticking out slightly from underneath his sleeve. That bandage, really, was what shattered the wall of indifference she had built up inside, and before she knew it she had fallen to her knees and drawn both of the children, who had struggled so hard while she did nothing but watch, deep into her arms.

That day, Petunia told her son and nephew of magic, although she was certain to warn both not to say a word to Vernon. And so it was that their lives and hearts grew just a little bit brighter, with the knowledge that no, there was nothing wrong with them, and they weren't truly freaks. Just as well, then, that they learned when they did, because the next three years turned into a brutal, devastating slog that more than once left either or both boys wondering why they didn't just give up and let it all end. One glance to the side though, the slightest glimpse of blonde hair with blue eyes or black with green, and they would have their answer. Because they were brothers, regardless of the fact that they didn't technically share a mom, and brothers didn't abandon each other. They would both live and die-if it ever came down to it-side by side, and shoulder to shoulder.

Thus, when the day came that two owls appeared on the porch, dropping their loads into the awaiting hand of Petunia who had sent Vernon away for the day, they both rejoiced that not only would their nightmare end, at least until summer holidays came again, but they would do it together, and facing the Wizarding World together.

XXX

"Wow," Harry breathed, his emerald green eyes glittering as he stared at all the amazing shops. "Isn't it amazing, Dudders? We're finally here!" Beside him, his brother in all but name smiled softly, just as eager but concealing it better.

"Yeah, Harry, they look awesome." Beside them, the friendly giant of a man Petunia had given reign over them for this trip rumbled in his kind and gentle voice about the various stores and attractions the two boys could see around Diagon Alley, as they had been informed the magical shopping district was called, but neither paid him much mind except to nod and 'ooh' properly at the polite places. They did, however, perk up suddenly when the man, Hagrid, mentioned a bank.

"Money? I… don't think that's such a good idea. Vernon would be… displeased." Dudley nodded solemnly in confirmation, although a small smirk crossed his lips at Harry's use of such a large word. The raven-haired boy had always been mischievous, although he tried not to show it unless Dudley was nearby, and confusing people with complex words and speech patterns always gave him a kick. Dudley had never understood the draw of it himself, and had stayed away from the mystery books and epic sagas his brother frequented from the library, preferring his own selection of action and romance. Granted, both boys still read far above their normal grade level, having more than enough time to practice in when trapped in their shared cupboard, but while Dudley may be able to carry on a decent conversation with most teenagers, he had seen and heard Harry baffle even university students with his eloquence on the few occasions they had the chance to speak with one.

"Nonsense, that great old prune has got nothing to say about it. 'E can't touch yer vault, 'specially not once ya get hold of it." Dudley cocked his head curiously even as his brother grinned in elation. Harry had a bank account?

"You mean I have my own money?" The younger boy said as if he had read Dudley's mind, eyes shining as he thought of all the things he could do for himself and Dudley with his own source of money. Already, he was marking several of the items sitting in the viewing windows of shops, his imagination running wild with the many possibilities. Dudley noticed this, well-used to Harry's tendency to jump forward without thinking, and nudged the black-haired boy in warning. He grinned sheepishly back, rubbing the back of his neck in consternation for a moment before turning to listen to Hagrid's response.

"Well o' course! Yeh didn' think yer parents left you nothing, did yeh?" The mention of Harry's parents sent the children's' eyebrows into their hairlines. It had been so long since either of them even thought of Lily and James Potter, barely distant memories anyways on top of being a forbidden subject in the Dursley house, neither of them even considered that the forgotten shades of Harry's parents might ever have an effect on their lives now.

"Well then, we should probably get going before my Father figures that out and finds a way to nick it all," Dudley's tone was light as he spoke, but both his and Harry's smiles dimmed a little at the thought, perfectly aware of just how likely such a thing would be. If Vernon knew that Harry had a great big pile of gold sitting around somewhere, he'd have it out of their hands and in his own bank account before they could say cupboard. So with a short nod of agreement from Harry, they were off, striding with purpose towards the massive white building squatting like a great lizard at the end of the Alley. They only paused to read the message scrawled in dull gold letters over the door, before regretting it a second later as the harsh but honest warning sent chills down their spines.

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

 _For those who take, but do not earn,_

 _Must pay dearly in their turn._

 _So if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief you've been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there._

Inside the bank, things were far less frightening. Sure, the goblin tellers did look quite vicious when taken out of context, with their leathery skin and sharp, feral features, but all of that seemed a bit dulled when their possessor was simply weighing gold, or inspecting the shape of a gleaming ruby. Still, Harry and Dudley remained on edge, the many fantasy stories of dragons and their thirst for treasure that they had read over the years climbing to the forefront of their mind. Just because they might be in an innocent setting now, didn't necessarily mean anything about the species as a whole.

"Hello," Greeted Hagrid as the trio stepped up to a random teller, smiling jovially even as the boys behind him glanced at each other nervously. "We're here to make a withdrawal from Harry Potter's account, and set up a school allowance for a Dudley Dursley." The teller looked up at them, suspicion in his beady eyes, but before he could make a retort, Harry stepped forward, a frown on his face.

"Wait, you don't need to do that for Dudley. You said I have a lot of gold, yeah? He can just use some of mine." Hagrid frowned at Harry, confusion clouding his features.

"Bu' that's yer gold, Harry. Yer Parent's left it for yeh, not yer cousin." Harry paused a second at the assertion, giving Hagrid a carefully regarding look, before glancing at Dudley. The other boy shrugged, though inside he was even more on edge than when he had been afraid of the goblins. True, they shared everything normally, but this was Harry's inheritance. He had no right to any of it. Finally, the dark-haired boy turned back to Hagrid, his face set in determination.

"Everything of mine is his. We're brothers, Hagrid, no matter our blood or family name."The half-giant's features flickered in uncertainty,shifting from worry to confusion, but just as he opened his mouth to say something else, he was cut off by the sound of a clearing throat, and all three of the visitors turned to look at the goblin teller, who was now glaring at them angrily.

"If you're quite done, could you perhaps actually _present_ Mr. Potter's key?"The goblin's tone was utterly condescending, as if he didn't think much of their choice to have an argument right in front of a teller's stand, and the trio blushed in shame. Hagrid quickly set about digging through the many pockets of his large overcoat for said key, producing several odd objects such as stale biscuits, a few loose coins, and even a white mouse, which squirmed in his hands before escaping and skittering behind the teller's stand, who casually picked it up with a whiplike snap of his wrists and tossed it into his mouth, before chewing with a disgusting crunching sound. Finally, as the boys shifted away slightly with disgust stretched across their faces, Hagrid pulled a small, ornate golden key out of the second-to last pocket, grinning as he handed it over. The teller inspected the key for a few seconds, before nodding, and ringing a small silver bell that rested upon his desk.

"Everything seems to be in order. Griphook will lead you to your destination." He nodded in the direction of another goblin, rougher in appearances and hurrying towards them, but before he arrived, Hagrid leaned forward, nearly over the teller's desk, and spoke in a low voice, his face suddenly serious.

"Also, I happen to be on a bit more Hogwarts business. Dumbledore sent me to retrieve the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen." Harry who had been looking curiously over at the other goblins in the long hall, cocked his head when he heard Hagrid, and just barely managed to catch a flash of parchment as the large man slipped something to the teller. He watched, curiosity piqued, as the goblin discreetly inspected what looked like a small letter, before nodding seriously.

"Vault four hundred and twelve, and vault seven hundred and thirteen." He stated as Griphook finally made his way to them, and the newcomer grinned viciously.

"Right this way." He said in a gravely voice, before turning and stalking deeper into the bank at a brisk pace, leaving Hagrid, Dudley, and Harry to hurry and catch long they were rocketing down rocky tunnels on a wildly speeding cart, the two young boys whooping as they blasted around corners and weaved up and down with the wind in their hair, even as Hagrid looked like he was going to be sick. Just as the half-giant opened his mouth to ask for a barf bag, however, they finally came to a stop beside a small door set in the grey stone, hard to notice if you weren't looking for and Dudley let him out first, smirking as he stumbled onto solid ground with the smile of a man who had just witnessed a miracle. If he had started to kiss the stones right then, neither of them would have been very surprised. Luckily, Hagrid didn't seem too fond of the taste of rock, and they were able to proceed without to much hassle. Griphook easily slid the key into a small stone lock, and with a slight shove, opened the door to allow Harry to see his inheritance for the first time.

Piles of gold, silver, and bronze lay heaped about the room,glinting dully in the light of a couple enchanted torches. Slowly, the two boys entered the room, their mouths hanging open as they stared at the veritable treasure trove. Drawing near to one of the piles, Harry hesitantly picked up a gold coin, the shift of weight causing a few more to go bouncing down its jumped back, gasping in surprise, before turning back to Griphook with an expression of awe, the coin still gripped tightly in his hands.

"This is all mine?" He asked in a small voice, and Griphook gave another feral smile, making an odd clucking noise in the back of his throat that Harry realized was the goblin laughing.

"This and more." He said, and even Dudley's jaw could be heard dropping from where he was running a hand through one of the piles of silver coins.

"More?" Came bothe boy's voices in faint tandem, and the goblin's smile grew ever sharper.

'You thought _this_ was all the House of Potter had to offer? This is merely your trust fund, boy. The family vault is much larger." For a second, the entire trio, even Hagrid, stared at the goblin, before Harry and Dudley exchanged calculating glances. Dudley turned to the goblin, blue eyes piercing as they bore into him.

"Could we see the family vault? If it's not too much to ask, of course." Griphook seemed to consider for a moment, before offering a short nod.

"Mr. Potter does have limited access to his family's vault yes, since he is the last Potter. He can look, and take a few heirlooms and the like, but the rest will have to wait until his majority at the age of seventeen."

"Seventeen?" Harry asked, brow furrowing. He could've sworn eighteen was the age of majority.

"Wizards are considered adults at the age of seventeen, unlike the muggle's eighteen years. Don't ask me why the distinction, as I've never cared enough about humans in general to learn, but there it is." Griphook said by way of explanation, and the two boys nodded. It didn't make much sense, but then again, when was magic ever supposed to? Pushing the curiosity aside, however, Harry and Dudley quickly gathered up enough gold for the two of them, and they were on their way once again, this time set on a course for the main Potter family vault. It was a short ride, the two vaults being rather close together, and when they stopped, it was in front of a much larger and far more ornate door, gilded with gold and standing intimidatingly like the gate to a mountain they got out, however, neither eleven-year0old could see a keyhole to the door.

"How do we get in?" Asked Dudley, uncertainty coloring his voice. He was answered when Griphook's hand suddenly shot out from his side and grabbed Harry's, pulling it close, before the other dragged a wickedly sharp silver knife across from it. Harry cried out in protest at the sudden pain and tried to drag his hand free, but the goblin had it in an iron grip, and the young boy could do nothing as he was dragged over to the door. Griphook forcefully pressed the bleeding hand against the door, smearing the crimson liquid everywhere, before dropping it with and stepping back. Harry, face twisted with anger and pain, retreated to his brother's side, pressing the bleeding appendage into his leg, hoping it didn't his already ragged pants.

Both boys soon forgot about the surprise mauling, however, when there was a deafening grinding of stone on stone, and with a visible tremor the great door slowly slid was an even greater treasure trove than the previous one. Now, the stacks of gold and silver loomed large over even Hagrid's head, and even the bronze piles threatened to be capable of burying Harry and Dudley alive. More though, were the non-monetary treasures scattered about the room, resting upon shelves and bookcases that lined the walls in positions of honor and worth. Beautiful pieces of jewelry of all shapes, sizes, and colors shimmered with inner fires and cold beauty, and ancient and dusty tomes offered the ancient knowledge held within them. The air air in the vault buzzed with magic in the air, as even the few scattered pieces of weaponry and armor, ancient in design but still strong in appearance, radiated heavy enchantments of protection and power.

The group entered tentatively, even Griphook's steps careful and measured. The goblin nation may have looked down upon humans as a whole, deeming them weak and squalid creatures with little of worth, but even they had to respect the power of wizard magic. Goblin enchanters had never been able to replicate many of the feats wizards could manage, despite centuries of trying, and though much of the metalwork and jewelcraft in this room was originally goblin in origin, the magic was wholly human. House Potter was an ancient family, and powerful. It made him uncomfortable to be surrounded by this much magic.

As Griphook ruminated on the merits of human magic, Harry and Dudley were entering the vault slowly for a very different reason. The two boys were struck with awe at the surroundings, overwhelmed by the sheer power and majesty they were seeing. The magic called out to them as they stepped deeper and deeper into the vault, and slowly the two boys separated, drawn to different items whose magic seemed to resonate with them more. Harry, perhaps unsurprisingly, found himself pulled towards the bookcases, and the dusty tomes held within. When in front of one, he reached up, trailing a finger across the dusty leather bindings, his eyes tracing the words and letters written in more languages than he could count. He stopped, however, when the finger crossed a book with no name, embossed only with a silver griffin.A wave of curiosity overcame him, and he carefully hooked his finger over the top of the spine and pulled it out. As he lowered the book down, he inspected the front page, only to find the same symbol as before, and the back as well was similarly bare. With nothing else to do, he opened it to the first page, intent on reading and finding the name that way.

As Harry was absorbed in his book, Dudley found himself drawn to a very different sort of item, as he picked up one of the ancient swords that was sticking out of a pile of Galleons, as Griphook had called them. It was an old thing, one that wouldn't have stood out in a fantasy novel about knights and dragons, but the blade appeared perfect, as it had been forged only the day before. Gleaming silver, it had a wicked edge that caught the torchlight and sent it dancing up and down the blade's length, while the pommel was perfectly smooth and easy to grip, fitting his hand as if it had been made for it up, he gave the thing a couple of short swings, wild and untrained though they were. It was light as a feather and perfectly balanced, slicing through the air with a whisper-quick ease.

"Ah, a warrior. I'd thought as much."Dudley jumped as Griphook's gravelly voice came from behind, turning on instinct and nearly cutting the goblin's head off with the sword. Luckily, Griphook had the sensibilities to duck, although the wide grin he bore soured a bit. Still, he gave the blonde boy an appraising look.

"Um, what?" Dudley asked, suddenly on guard as the goblin appeared to be sizing him up like a piece of raised an eyebrow at him, but with a short sigh, explained.

"You have a warrior's bearing. It's harder to tell with you humans, of course, but the magic doesn't lie. You were called to the blade, while your… brother over there," He gestured towards Harry, who was now almost pressing his nose into the book in his hands, green eyes wide with wonder. "Was drawn to the grimoire. Granted, you're both fighters, I can smell it on you, but I reckon your styles and preferences will be vastly different. The young Potter heir will likely favor more arcane methods, while you, Dursley, will hold more with direct fighting." Dudley was taken aback by the astute description, especially since it was quite accurate. Harry had always been more of an intellectual than Dudley, always hungrily pursuing knowledge and information while Dudley prefered the simpler activities life had to offer.

"If you say so." He replied uneasily, moving to put the sword back. _Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to come here after all._ He thought. Before he could return the sword to the pile, however, Griphook's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

"Keep it," The goblin said, his gravely voice turning serious. "The blade chose you. It is yours to bear." Dudley stared at him, uncertainty setting his stomach roiling. The goblin was telling him to keep the sword? Who used swords these days?

"What would I do with it? I doubt I'd be allowed to take it to school with me." He asked, a frown twisting his lips. Strangely, the goblin grinned at him, beady little eyes glittering darkly.

"You would be surprised," Was his only response, before turning and walking over to Harry. They had a short conversation, one Dudley couldn't quite make out, and a few seconds later, the duo had come back over to where Dudley was standing, the sword still hanging loosely in his grasp.

"You ready to go?" Harry asked, and as Dudley nodded slowly he noticed the book tucked under Haary's arm, looking uncommonly snug there.

"What's that?" He asked, tilting his head at the item in question. Harry smiled, his entire face lighting up, and Dudley fought to suppress a groan. _Oh boy, here comes another book rant._

"It's my family grimoire!" Harry said brightly, and Dudley, who had already resigned himself to only paying half-attention to his cousin for the next twenty minutes, suddenly perked back up.

"Really?" He asked, curiosity spilling into his voice. Harry nodded eagerly in agreement, and as they collected Hagrid, who had remained close to the door, the duo launched into a discussion on the possibilities of what sort of spells might be found in the grimoire, paying little attention to their surroundings. Perhaps visiting the vault _had_ been a good idea, after all.


End file.
